


A Very TNG Christmas

by kiranerys42



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, F/M, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 08:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17261054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranerys42/pseuds/kiranerys42
Summary: Beverly throws a holiday party. Data is very enthusiastic. Deanna gets drunk. Jean-Luc just hopes things don't get too out of hand.





	A Very TNG Christmas

“Admiral, I understand that this is a pressing issue, but the Bolian ambassador will simply have to wait—”

Jean-Luc was interrupted by the distinctive chime of the doorbell. He paused to glance over at the slightly lumpy sweater and small pile of gifts sitting on his dresser before continuing.

“—he will simply have to wait until tomorrow for a response. I’ve promised Bev—ah, I’ve promised Dr. Crusher I will attend an… event she’s planned this evening, and I’m already running late.”

Admiral Nechayev smiled knowingly.

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to do anything to upset _Dr. Crusher_. I hope you two have fun tonight.” The admiral gave a knowing wink, which Jean-Luc pointedly ignored. “I’ll call you back tomorrow at oh-nine-hundred hours.”

The doorbell chimed again. Jean-Luc tried to maintain his composure. He wasn’t sure he was succeeding.

“Very well. Good evening, Admiral.”

He paused and waited a moment for the video call to end. “Beverly, please come in.”

Beverly entered the room in a rush. “Jean-Luc, we’re already five minutes late, and I simply can’t be late to a party that _I_ planned, it’s not— and _why_ are you still wearing your uniform? Honestly, your sweater is gorgeous; you know Chief O’Brien’s mother knitted it herself, from real wool, not replicated.”

Jean-Luc took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

“It’s good to see you too, Beverly.”

* * *

Ten Forward was covered in strings of small, twinkling white lights. Festive wreaths with red bows hung from the walls, and lopsided paper snowflakes, clearly made by children, were scattered across the windows.

Jean-Luc scratched surreptitiously at the back of his neck, wondering if replicated wool was as itchy as the real thing.

“Captain!” exclaimed Data, who was wearing a blindingly red sweater with a reindeer on it, and a matching hat. “Merry Christmas! Or, as they would say on your native region of Earth, _Joyeux Noël_! In fact, there are many fascinating ways of greeting people during this holiday season. Did you know that—”

“Data, I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but the Captain hasn’t had a chance to get a drink yet,” Counsellor Troi interrupted, gently placing her hand on Jean-Luc’s arm and walking him towards the bar. Her dark green dress had a multitude of ruffles and was covered in gold sequins. Jean-Luc thought it somewhat resembled the pine tree in the corner of the room, which had been decorated with gold ornaments, but knew better than to say so.

“Thank you, Deanna. That’s a lovely dress, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you! Will says it makes me look like a Christmas tree, but I think he’s just… well… you’ll understand when you see what _he’s_ wearing tonight.” Deanna smiled in a way that made Jean-Luc very nervous.

Guinan was behind the bar serving drinks. Standing at the bar was Worf, along with Keiko and Miles O’Brien.

“Captain,” Worf said gruffly. He seemed not to know what to say next, and he filled the awkward silence by taking a large sip from the goblet he was holding.

“Oh, hello Captain. That’s a nice sweater you’re wearing,” said Miles, chuckling and gesturing at his and Keiko’s similarly lumpy sweaters. “My mom insists on making these for us every year. It isn’t a proper Christmas without them!”

“Yes, they’re quite…ah…well, the color is lovely,” Jean-Luc responded.

Guinan handed Deanna a mug of steaming, dark red liquid; Deanna drank half of it in one gulp.

“Oh, that looks delicious! What is it, Deanna?” Keiko asked.

“Mulled wine! It’s delightful. And it’s the real thing—no synthehol tonight.”

Keiko turned to her attention to Worf. “And what are you drinking?”

 “Oh, that’s just a little something I thought our resident Klingon would enjoy,” Guinan interjected. “Mulled blood wine, with a secret ingredient—” she leaned forward and whispered “—prune juice.”

Worf looked down at his glass, absolutely appalled. “While it is not a… _traditional_ Klingon beverage, I suppose it is… acceptable.” He took another sip, and Guinan rolled her eyes.

Jean-Luc helped himself to some mulled wine. He had a feeling he’d need it.

* * *

An hour and several glasses of mulled wine later, Data stood in the center of the room and clanged a fork against a glass.

“Attention, everyone! Let us please welcome the guest of honor. Now, this tradition is based on a Christian religious figure from Earth’s 4th Century, Saint Nicholas of Myra, who…”

Geordi cleared his throat and gave Data a pointed look.

“…well, I suppose most of you are aware of the general historical context surrounding Saint Nicholas. So, let us please give a warm welcome to… Santa Claus!”

Commander Riker entered the room to a polite scattering of applause. He was wearing a fuzzy red-and-white hat, a fake white beard, and little else.

Jean-Luc raised his eyebrows and leaned over to whisper in Beverly’s ear. “I don’t believe that’s the traditional Santa Claus outfit,” he said questioningly.

“According to Deanna, there was a mix-up with the replicator pattern,” she whispered back.

Riker swung his leg over the back of a plush red-and-gold chair near the center of the room, took a seat, and gave a sheepish grin. “Hello everyone! Sorry I’m late.”

“Tradition dictates that children will sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what gifts they wish to receive for Christmas,” Data said, looking pointedly at Wesley, who was sitting at a table by himself, eating a slice of fruitcake.

Wesley’s eyes grew wide. He looked desperately from Riker, to Data, to his mother, then back at Data.

“I am _not_ sitting on Commander Riker’s lap.”

Deanna stumbled past, grabbing Beverly’s arm for balance.

“Well, _I’d_ quite like to sit on Santa’s lap!” she exclaimed, a bit more loudly than was necessary.

“Hello, Santa,” Deanna said in a sultry voice, wobbling slightly and rearranging her dress as she settled into Riker’s lap.

“Why, hello there, Deanna,” Riker said, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks above the fake beard. “Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

“Oh, I’ve been _very_ naughty.”

“Well, you know what naughty girls get for Christmas…”

Jean-Luc blushed, and made a beeline for the other end of the room, as far away from Deanna and Riker as possible. His eyes darted around the room, desperate for a distraction. Maybe Data would want to fill him in on the fascinating history of Earth’s pagan winter celebrations, or perhaps…

“Jean-Luc,” said Beverly breathlessly, stopping him by a doorway and gesturing upwards, “is that mistletoe?”

He looked up and cleared his throat. “It appears so.”

Beverly raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Jean-Luc glanced around at the room. No one was paying them any attention, but even still…

“Perhaps we should continue this somewhere more private?”

Beverly smiled. “Perhaps we should.”


End file.
